


The JJ Interludes

by Snow_Glory



Series: Catastrophes [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, JJ is a mischief maker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:05:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5500058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow_Glory/pseuds/Snow_Glory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Memories of Aramis, his cat JJ and Marsac.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Serge's discovery and Marsac's motivation

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to explain how Serge found out Aramis's cat Jean Jr was female, and then what she had done to Marsac to make him so angry in Battle Scars. This was the result!
> 
> I am leaving this series open for now in case I come up with some more stories... or someone offers me suggestions haha. But aside from that, each chapter is its own story and can be read without worry that it won't be unfinished.

**How Serge figured out JJ was female.**

  
  


Marsac and Aramis were seated amongst their fellow comrades at the table in the garrison, enjoying goblets of wine and sharing various stories of their soldering years. They were being quite loud and boisterous in their tales, enough so that even their Captain, Treville, had wandered out of his office to see what was going on. 

Aramis had just stood up to tell the tale of his and Marsac’s first meeting when shouting, followed by a clattering of dishes and spoons and whatnot came from the kitchen. Instantly the men got to their feet and raced towards the garrison’s kitchens in worry for their cook, Serge.

Aramis and Marsac were the first to reach the room and their eyes widened at the scene before them. Pots, pans, bowls and spoons lay everywhere but on the shelves where they normally resided. The rather large cauldron of soup that Serge had been preparing was still pouring out onto the ground, thankfully mostly missing the man, as he lay prone on the ground staring up at the once white cat sitting on his forehead. 

“Serge! Are you alright?” Marsac asked. He moved to help the man up but stepped back swiftly as Aramis’s cat, JJ, growled at him. 

“I’m fine Marsac. It's the cat I am worried about; she decided to taste the soup and fell in. I scrambled to grab her and tripped, knocking over the cauldron instead.”

Aramis reached forward and grasped his soup drenched cat, snuggling her in close, getting soup all over his doublet. “Oh, my poor JJ! Are you alright? Wait! She?” He looked at Serge, puzzled. 

“When she sat on my forehead I didn’t see any dangly bits… makes her a girl aye?”

“Oh, my sweet Princess!” Aramis cooed. “Let's get my darling a bath shall we?”

*meow*

“Oh, I know JJ! Those mean men got you all dirty!”

“He’s an idiot,” replied Marsac as Aramis walked out of the kitchens murmuring the most loving things to JJ. “Make sure you take a bath as well Aramis!”

“Aye, but he’s our idiot,” Serge confirmed. He held up his hand and Marsac yanked him up to stand. “Now help me clean this up.”

“No fair! It was Aramis’ cat that made this mess!”

Serge didn’t respond, just handed Marsac a broom.

  


\--------------------

  
  


**What JJ did to Marsac that caused Marsac to want to destroy her in Battle Scars.**

  
  


It had been a long mission, two weeks, and it hadn’t ended well. He was exhausted from trying to support Aramis emotionally through the harrowing trip back. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and sleep for the remainder of the year. No, a century. 

Marsac wandered off to his rooms, ignoring the panic in his best friend's voice. Aramis couldn’t locate JJ, and while that was unusual and concerning, Marsac just really couldn’t find it in him to care all that much. He despised that she-devil of a feline and if her being missing meant a couple of hours of peaceful rest, he was going to grasp that silver lining and keep holding onto for as long as he could. 

He trudged to his rooms, dragging his feet with every step, and once he unlocked the door, he flopped down on his bed face first, clothing and all. He sighed in relief and snuggled his pillow for a moment, before getting back up and beginning to remove his belts and weaponry. 

Once done he spared a glance around the room, noticing for the first time that it smelled quite strongly of urine. He was shocked to see that his room looked as though a dust storm had gone through it. There was gunpowder all over the table and floor, his extra leather jacket was shredded, papers and books all over the floor and more than a few suspicious yellow stains on his pillow… the same pillow he had just rubbed his face in. 

And there, perched gracefully, at the top of his shelf two ice blue eyes stared at him. JJ. With a howl most unbecoming of a twenty-something-year-old musketeer, Marsac lunged for JJ, missing by mere inches. The cat flew yowling and hissing all the way to the ground landing perfectly on her feet as Marsac scrambled for purchase knocking over the shelf.

He advanced towards the cat, smirking as she backed herself into a corner. “Come here JJ. Marsac has a special treat for you!” He said it in a singsong voice. He jumped towards her hoping to grab her and ended up in a crumpled heap in the corner of his room, JJ standing behind him. Marsac would swear later that she was grinning as she backed up, tail swaying back and forth taunting.

Marsac growled and jumped up, laughing when JJ hissed and lunged forward for her again.

“ARAMIS!” He bellowed chasing after the white devil as she bolted towards the opened window. 


	2. Because we all need a cat stuck in a tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the chapter title says... JJ stuck in a tree.

**Because we all need a cat stuck in a tree.**

  
  
  


“Aramis?”

“Yes, Marsac?”

“Why are you in a tree?”

“Would you believe for entertainment purposes?”

“No.” 

“Oh, well then, I am stuck.”

And stuck he was, that much Marsac could see. Aramis was fairly high up in the tree, his foot wedged between two branches that had woven and twisted around each other as they grew.

“Are you hurt?” Marsac asked. He was standing at the base of the tree hands on his hips, pondering how to get Aramis down and he frowned in worry when Aramis’ response reached his ears. Obviously, Aramis wasn’t going to admit he was stuck in a tree with a possible broken ankle. 

“Maybe? My ankle does hurt…”

He sighed.

“Aramis?”

“Yes, Marsac?”

“Why are you even in the tree?”

This time, it was Aramis who sighed, “JJ was up here and I thought she was stuck.” He explained.

“I take it, from the lack of cat, that she wasn't stuck?” Marsac wandered around the base of the tree looking for a strong enough foothold. He frowned and looked back up at his friend. “How did you even get up there? There is no visible foothold.”

“I have excellent cat-like reflexes?” Aramis responded with a question in his voice.

“Of course, you would. You aren't normal my friend.”

“Marsac, I don't exactly feel well.”

“I wouldn't feel well with a broken ankle either Aramis.”

“No… no. I don't think I've ever mentioned that I don't like heights. Is the ground wobbling?”

“How can you be afraid of heights?! You are a marksman for goodness sake. You are on the higher ground all the time!” Marsac exclaimed.

“No… I'm sure that's the ground rushing up to me. Marsac!” Aramis’s voice suddenly became laced with fear and Marsac glanced up again in worry. Aramis was struggling in earnest to get his foot out from the branches. 

“Aramis, no. Shhh, calm down,” Marsac lowered his voice, speaking in softer tones. The last thing he needed was Aramis to panic, especially since he couldn't get to him. “I need to get Treville. I need help getting you down.”

The responding voice was shaking and incredibly shy, “Please don't leave me here Marsac.”

Marsac’s heart broke at the words and he flinched, knowing that he'd have to figure this out without Treville. 

“You know JJ is going to be the death of you someday?” Marsac went to the back side of the tree and stretched his arm as high as he could, and smiled as his fingertips barely brushed the lowest hanging branch. A good solid jump would have the branch firmly in his grasp. He was elated, this might work.

“She has many redeeming qualities, Marsac. If you'd stop despising my precious, you'd see her sparkling personality underneath her gruff exterior.”

“She's a cat. I'm not ever going to like cats. The garrison needs a good solid guard dog. Not a mangy fluff ball.”

Marsac laughed at Aramis’ sharp intake of breath at his words. He jumped and succeeded in grabbing the branch. He hung for a moment contemplating his next move and then swung his torso towards the tree trunk. He wrapped his legs around the trunk and used that as leverage to hoist himself onto the base of the sturdy branch. 

He ignored Aramis after that and began his ascent in the tree. Hopping from branch to branch with relative ease, stopping every so often to test out the thinner of the trees appendages. When he'd reached the branch just below where Aramis’s foot was wedged he paused and glanced towards the marksman.

“How is that branch even supporting you Aramis? It's bending so much I am honestly worried it's going to snap!” Marsac realized his error a half a second later when Aramis’s eyes widened and the man's face paled. His grip on the tree trunk increased exponentially and he immediately glanced downwards and cried out in terror.

“Crap! I'm sorry!” Marsac exclaimed. He placed his hand on Aramis’s leg and squeezed trying to offer comfort. “Don't look down. Just look up. It's a beautiful sunny day!”

He took Aramis’ foot in hand and began twisting it and pushing to see if he could dislodge it from its trappings. He whispered soothing words to his friend trying to calm him down. 

“Marsac?” Aramis’s voice stuttered as his breathing hitched. 

“Yes, Aramis?”

“Look upwards, just above your head.”

Marsac followed Aramis’s line of sight and snorted at what he saw. Sitting just above his own head was a white fluffy tail and a pair of blue eyes. 

“Told you JJ was in the tree.”

With a bewildered glance at the cat and one final shove, Marsac dislodged Aramis’s foot. “Think you can climb down now?” he asked his friend. In trying to remove Aramis’ foot, he had been able to determine the man was not injured severely. It was possible it was sprained lightly, but for once Aramis would come out of a situation fairly unscathed.

Aramis immediately adjusted his position and wrapped himself firmly against the trunk of the tree. “Save JJ first.”

“I'm not touching that devil.”

“You’d just leave her there?”

“Yes.” Marsac shrugged at Aramis’ accusing glare and started climbing down the tree gingerly, leaving Aramis and JJ behind. He held no love for the cat and decided that since Aramis had climbed up, he could darned well make his own way down. His random act of kindness was complete for the day. 

“Marsac?”

“Yes, Aramis?”

“You, are a jerk.”

Marsac grinned as he set foot on solid ground. He pulled on his hat and tipped it up towards his friend, who was now making his way down the tree, shaking quite visibly.

“Takes one to know one,” Marsac responded. 

“Really? What are you… two years old?” 

Marsac turned, chuckling and prepared to walk away when he heard a strange yowling sound. Afraid Aramis had lost his grip he spun around and met with a clawing white bundle of angry JJ cat. 

He screeched as she bit down onto his hat, dragged it off his head and raced off with it, stumbling slightly due to its size, into the forest surrounding them. 

“Bloody cat!” he cried. He growled at the tree a moment later when a great loud laughing resonated from it.

“Aramis?!”

“Yes, Marsac?”

“I'm going to murder that cat.”

Aramis dropped out of the tree and grimaced slightly at the pain in his ankle, “She loves you Marsac; why can’t you see that?”

Marsac grumbled and ran his hand through his unruly hair.

“I’d still like to murder her.”

“You’d never get close enough my friend. Help me back to the garrison?”

Marsac sighed and tossed Aramis’ arm over his shoulder, supporting some of the weight off his ankle. “Let's go. She’ll find her way home?”

Aramis nodded.

“You owe me a new hat.” 


	3. The Pink Cat

**The Pink Cat**

 

The sky was crystal clear, the day warming, morning roster had gone beautifully, his men had all reported on time, the pink cat on his railing was lounging and preening, Serge’s mid-day luncheon was--

Treville stopped abruptly on the stairs to his office and he nearly stumbled backwards as his thoughts screeched to a halt.

Pink cat?

He backed down the stairs and looked upwards to the railing by his office. There wasn't anything there. He shook his head puzzled and moved to climb the stairs again. 

Now where was he? Oh yes. Serge’s mid-day luncheon was sending a delicious aroma all over his garrison. The King was in a good mood and had relaxed guard duty at the palace, much to his soldier’s relief. The pink cat was on the railing marching back and forth as if she was--

Treville stopped again. He slowly looked around the balcony post and… nothing! What was going on?

This time, Treville stalked towards the balcony railing just outside his office and peered over to the garrison below. Everything looked completely normal, he looked from one end of the balcony to the other and again, nothing was out of place. He rubbed his temples and groaned, maybe a nice drink would help he thought to himself. Treville knew it was a tad early in the day to begin drinking, but he'd just have the one. He grabbed his key from his trouser pocket and unlocked the door, tossing his weapons, doublet and belts on his bed near his desk.

He'd just sat down and poured himself a nice solid dollop of the bourbon when a rather forceful pounding could be heard from outside, and from experience, Treville knew someone was climbing the stairs and would inevitably knock on his door moments later.

*Knock knock* 

“See?!” He said aloud to no one, before smiling and bidding the person enter. Treville set down the drink and stood to bow slightly a moment later when none other than his eminence Cardinal Richelieu entered.

“Richelieu? I am surprised to see you in my garrison. The last time you visited you made sure to make it known that you would not be visiting this place again lest, what was it again? Pigs grew wings and flew? Yes, yes that’s it.” Treville walked out from behind his desk and leaned against the front, his arms bracing himself against the desk.

Richelieu hummed, and walked fully into Treville’s office, tossing his cloak off his shoulders. “Yes, well, it may not be the livestock that has grown wings, but I do have something just as wondrous residing in my barracks at present. They are… how shall I put this… the wrong shade of colour to be a part of my guardsmen.”

Treville frowned; he had no clue what the Cardinal was referring to. “And this warranted a visit directly from you?”

Richelieu sniffed and glanced around the room in disgust. “When you see, you will understand why my visit was necessary. I and my red guards are not to blame for this incident. I am merely holding your men to prevent further embarrassment to the Musketeers regiment and to spare the King the knowledge that you have no control over your men.”

“How noble of you Richelieu.” Treville followed Richelieu out of his office, wondering what the man was speaking of. His thoughts immediately settled on the mythical pink cat he had seen twice earlier and with a sudden realization he knew who the men in question being held at the barracks were. 

Marsac and Aramis. Because now that he thought of it, neither of his young soldiers had appeared for morning roster. Neither of the two boys had been seen since they raced out of the garrison the night prior, intent on visiting several taverns.

And with that revelation, a vibrantly pink coloured cat appeared at the base of the steps leading to Treville’s office.

“That’s almost the exact shade of your two soldiers Treville,” Richelieu commented upon seeing JJ. He bent down and scratched the cat under the chin, JJ purring in contentment.

Of course, JJ would like Richelieu, Treville thought to himself. Aramis would be devastated when he found out, and Treville grinned and decided that this would be an excellent start to his youngest’s punishment for whatever incident he’d caused.

 

\------

 

They reached the Red Guards barracks fairly quickly, especially since they rode back in the Cardinal’s opulent carriage. Richelieu hadn't been very forthcoming in details, stating that he didn't know exactly what happened himself, only that his Captain of the Red Guards had been called to a disturbance in the area that housed the King's personal tailors.

Treville had been puzzled at that piece of information. Why Marsac and Aramis would have been in that area was completely unknown to him. The taverns the boys frequented were often on the opposite end of Paris, and unless they were on patrol they had no business being in the wealthiest areas of the city. 

Treville and the Cardinal stepped out of the carriage to a semi-circle of shouting and laughing red guards.  It was obviously they were mocking something in the centre and Treville knew immediately that it was his young Musketeers.

“That will be quite enough!” He shouted his voice was loud enough to carry over the men but other than a couple of half glances in his direction, he was largely ignored. It took one more shout and a shrill whistle by Richelieu before the crowd parted like the red sea, revealing two pitiful, pink-hued men. Marsac and Aramis were bound to each other by the wrists, back to back. Neither man was wearing their doublets, which was probably a good thing considering the state of the rest of their clothing. Their shirts were a vivid shade of pink, the leather pants they wore, slightly more subdued in colour, but well on their way to being a lovely shade of red. Neither had any boots on and their skin was a touch pinker than it should be. Their hair which thankfully was dark in colour looked to have avoided most of the coloring, but Treville had no doubt that once out in the direct sunlight it would probably prove to be red. 

“Untie them now!” ordered Richelieu, to his guards. “And get them out of here, Treville. You can march them back through Paris in that state; I have no intention of having my carriages stained pink. Besides it might teach those two a lesson.”

Treville and Richelieu glared at each other until finally each man sighed. Richelieu whipped his robe around and sauntered out of the barracks towards the palace, a good number of guards following him. The few that stayed behind were cutting the bonds that bound Aramis and Marsac together and gathering any belongings the two had on their persons when the incident occurred. Both of his soldiers looked extremely sheepish, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“So,” began Treville, “imagine my surprise when JJ arrived in the garrison this morning…”

Aramis and Marsac shared a wary glance, before Aramis spoke up timidly, “We can explain sir.”

“Oh, you will explain. However, I believe I may need a drink for this one. Get walking, you can explain in my office.”

 

\---------

 

Treville set the pace back to the garrison at a crawl. He led the way at a safe enough distance hoping to make it well known that he wasn't pleased with his soldiers. 

Marsac had grown increasingly sullen on the walk back, muttering under his breath and lunging menacingly at anyone who dared openly make fun of them. Aramis nervously fiddled with the edges of his pink shirt, head bowed, and barely paying attention to his surroundings. Treville knew the laughter and teasing of the Parisians didn't bother Aramis in the slightest. No, Aramis was more worried about the wrath that his Captain was going to bestow. Being a soldier was important to Aramis, which was why Treville knew with clarity that Marsac's defensive behaviour and Aramis’s meek behavior meant there was more to this story than what could be seen on the surface. This hadn't been some frivolous, foolish accident, something had happened.

Back in his office, Treville still hadn't spoken a word to his soldiers. They had followed him up the steps and stood rigidly in front of his desk, waiting while their Captain poured himself a generous helping of the golden coloured liquid out of a fancy decanter. Treville sat down and leaned back in his chair, taking a sip from his glass and closing his eyes sighing. 

“I'll take all the blame for this Treville,” Marsac said. He pushed the younger Musketeer behind him. 

Aramis sputtered, face reddening. “Marsac! No. This wasn’t your fault.”

Treville leaned further back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. He didn't bother opening his eyes as he took another longer gulp of the bourbon. 

“It wasn't anymore your fault than mine. The thief chose to reveal his plans to steal the royal jewels from the cleaners and we happened to overhear.”

Treville blinked his eyes open at Aramis’s confession and sat forward in his seat, preparing to say something. Instead, he was interrupted by the continuing battle between his men.

“But it was my idea to follow him.”

“It was our duty Marsac. We are supposed to up hold of the law!”

“Then explain how it wasn't my fault you ended up in as vat of red dye?”

“It was the thief’s fault! You know he thought he could hide in the royal linens.”

“And JJ?”

Treville's ears perked up at the mention of the pink cat. He was curious as to how JJ was involved.

“Well yes, that part is your fault. I've told you before she adores you. But you antagonize her so much it was only a matter of time before she turned the tables.”

Marsac's eyes widened momentarily before his expression darkened. “You know what? No, this wasn’t my fault. This is entirely your fault. I'm glad I tossed that cat into the dye. When she jumped down from the laundry line--”

“She was trying to help me! If you'd have focussed on the task at hand you'd have noticed she was aiming for our thief. Instead, you got into a mighty brawl with an animal and I got tossed into the dye by our thief ramming a linen cart into my side.”

Treville rose instantly and cross to the other side of his desk. He grabbed Aramis, loosened his shirt and pulled it up to reveal possibly the only thing on the young man that wasn’t a shade derived from the colour red. Aramis’ whole side was a blossoming blackish blue bruise, proving that something had hit the side of the man quite violently.

“If Aramis was forcefully pushed into the dye pots, why are you pink as well Marsac?” Treville asked. He was prodding Aramis’ bruises slightly, eliciting small hisses and whimpers from the man. 

“It was the damn cat, Sir”

At that Aramis started to giggle, “Oh Captain, it was a sight to behold. Marsac was flailing about trying to dislodge JJ from his head and he tripped over a bundle of linen waiting to be dyed and fell in. I was on my way out to apprehend the thief who was trying to get out of the area.”

“Did you manage to capture him?”

“No Sir, sorry. He shouldn’t be difficult to find, though; his hands were covered in the concentrated dyes left in the linen cart. You think Marsac and I are bad, his hands are sure to be permanently stained.”

Treville nodded, not entirely happy that the jewel thief had gotten away. He moved away from Aramis, allowing the man’s shirt to fall back into place and swiftly walked to the door to his office. He exited it and called out to some of his Musketeers below, requesting they be on the lookout for Aramis and Marsac’s thief. He sat back down at his desk a moment later and placed his head in his hands and started chuckling.

“Sir?” Aramis asked.

“Your cat is a lovely shade of pink, Aramis. Go and track JJ down and give her a bath, see if you can’t tone down the vibrancy of her fur. And then you and Marsac take a bath.”

“Yes Captain,” Marsac mumbled. He grabbed Aramis by the shoulders and pulled him out of the office.

Treville continued to laugh for a few moments longer before composing himself and clearing his throat. He grabbed for his glass of bourbon and took a long drink from it, finishing it off. He grabbed some paper from the side of his desk and dipped a quill into the ink. This moment deserved to be written out for history to remember. He was just about to put quill to paper when Aramis peeked back in the door.

“Captain?”

“Yes Aramis? What is it that you require?”

“Can I just say one thing?”

Treville looked up from his paper at his marksman inquiringly and with great impatience.

“If we manage to find this man… you could almost say we caught the thief ‘red handed.’”

Treville blinked and stared at Aramis for a moment before he broke out into laughter, tears streaming down his face. “Yes, Aramis you could say exactly that.”


	4. The net that bested a musketeer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for @RitaMarx who asked me over on ff.net for JJ to rescue Aramis. It's not exactly as she asked for but I hope it is close enough for her to still enjoy.

**The net that bested a Musketeer**

  
  


It was a miracle that in its travels, no one bothered the small, white kitten dragging a large, gray hat down the street ways. It would struggle and brace its petite back legs and tug as hard as its tiny body could. Every few feet it would pause to shake its paws of all the muck and grime that littered the streets. But it seemed - to the people brave enough to be out in this weather - that the kitten was on a mission and left it be.

The Parisian evening was dull, cold and filled with pouring rain. The rain had begun the day before and showed no signs of letting up. The chill in the air of the coming winter left most of the inhabitants of Paris huddled in their homes, warmed by the fires.

And so on the kitten went, intent on her destination, determined to deliver the hat to wherever that may be.

 

\------------

 

The leg had come out of nowhere in the darkness of the rainy Paris night. Aramis tripped over it and fell face first into a muddy puddle of water. A cruel laugh rang out in the alleyway, and as Aramis focused on trying to stand, he could hear several booted feet stomping into the small narrow area.

There was no rhyme or reason Aramis could think of on why the men surrounded him in the alley, pushing him back down to the ground the second he got up.  He was a trained soldier and his main gauche and a single pistol would suffice for protection. Aramis also carried a small amount of coin in his purse, so he was surprised when they did not touch it. Only his prized fleur-de-lis shoulder guard was taken off his person and tossed somewhere off to the side.

A thin net was cast over his body and he struggled to remove it before he was completely tangled. They pummeled him with their boots, smashed their fists into his body and laughed the entire time. There were so many men that Aramis couldn’t pick out a single conversation and he had no clue what they were trying to say to him. He curled into a ball and wrapped one arm around his head to protect himself. He tried to shout for help, but with the violent blows to his chest, it was hard to take a deep enough breath. When the beating stopped an interminable time later, he was dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Aramis tried to look up to see the faces of his attackers but the net had wound itself around his body in a tight grip.

“Tell your Captain to keep his nose out of Court business. You filthy musketeers aren’t welcome there.” They laughed at him and kicked his head once more for good measure before stomping back out of the alley.

Aramis groaned in pain and attempted to adjust his position. The net tangled around his body, holding him tight in its grip. His arm was sticking out of the gaps in the net, bent at an odd angle and throbbing in time with his heartbeat. His chin lay against his chest pinned by his other arm that was still protecting his head. One of his legs was bent at the knee, wrapped tight against his backside and his ankle was twisted in a way that was uncomfortable. The other leg was free of the net, but of no use to him in his current position. He was sure there were several things wrong with his rib cage. Some of the ribs didn’t quite feel as though they were in the places they were supposed to be.

He tried to move again and groaned as his stomach protested the jarring of his head. He added a concussion to the growing list of things wrong with him. He didn't want to be sick, tangled up in the net and unable to move, stuck in his own filth until some poor soul came to rescue him. His heart plummeted at that thought. No one knew where he was and Aramis couldn’t even take a deep enough breath to expand his lungs and yell for help.

Aramis whimpered in exhaustion and closed his eyes, allowing his body to relax as much as it could in its twisted form. He allowed his mind to wander over his current predicament. They had said his captain, Treville, had been following someone in the Court of Miracles. His attack had been a warning for Treville to stop immediately and Aramis was to be the messenger. Yet, for him to be the bearer of this news he'd have to get himself out of this mess.

What a miserable situation.

 

\---------

 

Treville, sheltered from the pouring onslaught, tossed another log towards the back of the fireplace and placed the grate back in front of the opening. He smiled at the large pile of wood sitting to the side of the hearth, confident that it would be enough to get him part way through the coming winter. He would have to go back out and gather more, but he was pleased that he wouldn’t run out anytime soon. He undid the buttons on his doublet and sat back on his bed sighing in contentment.

Things had been going well for his regiment as of late. All the new recruits were proving themselves quite capable and Treville was certain that the King was pleased with the skill of his men. Even Aramis and Marsac had calmed down recently. Treville wasn’t actually holding any hope that it would last long but was content to savor the moments while they lasted. The Musketeer regiment was on its way to becoming more powerful than the Cardinal’s Red Guards. However, he knew his Musketeer’s skills and fierce loyalty were no match for the sheer size of Richelieu's guardsmen. Treville knew he would need find a way to overcome that particular hurdle soon enough. 

Treville sank a little further into his bed, relishing the warmth the fire emitted. The heat chased out the last remnants of the chill from the torrential downpour outside. His thoughts wandered to the man he’d seen earlier sneaking back into the Court of Miracles. Many years ago he had known of a woman and a little boy. Before she had died she had begged Treville to watch over her son, but she’d entered the Court of Miracles looking for aid and he’d lost both her and the boy shortly after. Treville hoped Isaac had lasted this long, and if he had, he desperately hoped to bring the boy into the Musketeers. He had made a promise long ago to help provide some semblance of a life for that child.  

Treville had almost drifted off when there was a rapid pounding on the stairs leading to his office. He was alert in seconds and heaved his aging body off the bed, doing up the buttons on his doublet before wrenching the door open.

“Marsac, it’s the middle of the night son, what has you so excited?” Treville asked.

Marsac, one of his younger soldiers, was standing with his fist paused mid-air, ready to knock on the door. The man was soaked through and looked like he was woken from sleep. Marsac was still wearing his sleep clothes, covered by a knee length doublet. Treville suspected the doublet was one of Aramis' spares as it looked far too small on Marsac.

“Sir,” the man said. “You must come see this.” Marsac turned and raced back down the stairs, pulling the captain along by his arm.

There, in the middle of the courtyard, was a kitten sitting on top of a hat. The kitten was shivering and howling as loud as it could. Several of Treville's musketeers had gathered around the cat, trying to figure out how to help the small animal.

“Is that JJ?” Treville asked.

“She won't let anyone near her; we hoped you'd be able to get her off that hat. It looks like Aramis'.”

Treville nodded and moved towards JJ unsure of exactly what he was going to do. Other than the odd time with Serge, it wasn’t as though JJ had ever shown much love towards anyone but Aramis, so he wasn’t expecting any miracles now.

“Where is my wayward soldier, Marsac?” Treville asked as he knelt down in front of JJ and extended his hand towards her. He was surprised when she sniffed his palm and stuck her tongue out to lick his pinky finger.

“None of us have seen him since dinner Sir, and as far as I knew, he was staying in the garrison tonight to avoid the rain,” Marsac said.

"What do you think he was doing wandering around in this downpour?" Treville asked. He looked at his men for any ideas and when there was no answer, Treville turned back to the kitten asked her, “JJ, where is your human?”

JJ looked up at Treville and hopped off the hat, meowing loudly. She bit into the brim of the hat and began dragging it back towards the entrance of the garrison. Treville stood and watched, curious about what JJ was doing.

“Do we follow her?” Marsac asked. He moved to stand beside Treville.

“It certainly looks like she wants us to.”

JJ had paused at the entrance and was glaring at the men impatiently. Treville waved for Marsac and a couple of his men to join him and they followed the kitten out into Paris streets.

 

\-----

 

Aramis startled awake and immediately tried to cry out. Something had touched his hair and without being able to move his head, he couldn’t see what it was. Thoughts raced through his head as he tried to figure out what could be crawling around him. He started again a moment later when there was another tentative touch on the back of his exposed neck.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m just trying to loosen your bonds.”

For the third time in as many minutes, Aramis jumped. Of all the things he had imagined it to be, venomous snakes, vicious rats, crows or wild dogs, he had not considered it would be a person. Aramis tried to say something, but the net hadn’t loosened any while he was unconscious and all that he managed was a muffled groan.

“I saw what they did to you…” the mysterious person said. “It was unfair of them to gang up on you like that.”

Aramis felt the net loosen around his broken arm and lurched when searing pain raced up the limb.

“Sorry, I didn’t know it was broken.” The man’s hands moved down towards Aramis’s back, using a small knife to slice through the strands wrapped around his chest. When they broke apart Aramis took a deep breath and coughed, the man behind him chuckled. “I’ll undo your leg in a moment, but you have to promise not to kick me. I am only trying to help.”

The net fell away from Aramis’ upper body; he raised his head from his chest and gasped, “I won’t do that. Kick you I mean. Thank you for helping. I hadn't had much hope of being found.”

“Like I said, that was unfair of them.” The man moved around to the front and sliced the net from Aramis’s legs. He backed off as Aramis stretched them with a groan. “Will you be alright to make your way home?”

Aramis stared at the man; it was still too dark to see anything but his vague outline. He braced himself to stand up, “I’m sure I will manage.” He reached out and braced his good arm on the wall and tucked his broken one into his body, cradling it. It was at that moment that the rain let up and the clouds parted, revealing the full-moon. Its light cast shadows all over the alleyway and Aramis got his first real look at his rescuer. The darker skinned man was tall, broad-shouldered and a bit underweight, which was common in the Court of Miracles. He had a long scar running across one eye and wore a pendant with a face on it that Aramis recognized as St. Jude.

“You look like a street rat,” Aramis commented. He cringed immediately when it came out sounding unkind.

The man smirked before Aramis could apologize, “You're not entirely wrong…”

His voice trailed off as he looked around the alleyway, gaze stopping on the discarded pauldron laying a puddle of water.

“You are a musketeer?!” The man asked incredulously. “You captain has been following me lately - why?"

“I've been a musketeer for a couple of years now, and Treville doesn’t need to inform me of his whereabouts. I also prefer not to be a messenger in these sorts of things. If you would be so kind, please explain that to your court mates.” Aramis responded indignantly. He paused, glaring at his rescuer a moment longer before pushing off the wall and extending his good arm out to the man. “They call me Aramis.”

The man stared at Aramis for a long moment before extending his own hand, “I’m Porthos. How old are you? You barely look like you're out of your teenage years.”

“I'm quite old enough to be a soldier - thank you,” Aramis returned.

Porthos grunted; his disbelief of Aramis' words written all over his face. “I’ll be leaving now.  I have risked enough by saving you, and it's that much riskier knowing you are a musketeer.”

Porthos walked over to Aramis’ pauldron, picked it up out of the mud and tucked it under his arm, grinning. “A reward for my rescuing services; this will bring me a pretty penny.”

Aramis frowned at Porthos' words, “Take this then," he said. He handed his coin purse to Porthos. "The King is unfairly cruel to the court folk, but there is no reason they should suffer needlessly. Please keep the pauldron and don't sell it. If you ever want to become a soldier and do more for your people, seek out Treville."

Porthos’ jaw dropped open as he stared at the coin purse in his large palm, “I can’t…”

“I insist.” Aramis backed off and glanced towards the entrance to the alley. He could hear several people moving through the muddy lanes of the main street. “Go, before they find you and arrest you, my friend. When we next meet I will want my shoulder guard back.”

“I doubt you will ever lay eyes on me again.”

"I will - trust me."

Aramis watched as Porthos grinned and melted into the shadows just as Treville and Marsac rounded the corner into the alley.

“Aramis, are you alright?” Treville asked. He raced forward and grabbed for his wounded musketeer. “Who was that?”

Aramis put up no fight and accepted the embrace with ease, “I am going to live,” Aramis stated. Anticipating the question his captain was about to ask.

“You sound, and look quite pathetic.”

At Marsac’s words, Aramis stiffened and pushed out of Treville’s arms. “I was attacked by a group from the Court of Miracles, I’d like to see how you’d feel being in my boots!”

Treville sighed and grabbed Aramis by the arm steadying the man as he swayed. This had been a long night and he had no wish to get into the details of what happened until they were all ensconced in the garrison. Marsac was right, though, Aramis did look like he’d been roughed up and Treville wanted to have him looked at by a doctor.

“Let’s get back to the garrison and then we can deal with the details.” Aramis almost heard a hint of a question in his captain’s last remark but no one else took it that way and they marched on.

 

\----------------------

 

It was well into the night by the time the group had reached the garrison. They settled Aramis in the healing rooms and then saw the doctor out after he finished dealing with the young man's injuries.

“Where is your pauldron Aramis?” Treville asked. He sat down in a chair beside the bed where his soldier was propped on a couple of pillows. Aramis now sported a binding, wrapped tight around his arm, and secured to his chest to keep the bones immobile. Treville was annoyed at losing his best marksman for several weeks until it healed. The broken arm was the worst of the injuries Aramis endured in the alley though. The rest, a broken rib, concussion and various scrapes and rope burns from the net, would heal far quicker.

“My street rat, Porthos, took it. I told him to look for you should he want to join our ranks.”

“Aramis, we can’t just take any stray off the streets and accommodate them. JJ was the first and last of those.” Treville admonished. “Who was this Porthos?”

Aramis smiled. “You would like him Captain; you’ll see, he’ll show up… HEY!” He shouted a half second later. Aramis twisted on the bed looking around the room. “Where is JJ? She was with me in that alley. She’s just a kitten!”

“She’s right here!” Marsac said. He entered the room holding an angry white kitten. JJ was swatting at Marsac with all her might, furious at being touched by the human she despised more than anything. “JJ dragged your hat all the way to the garrison and back.”

Marsac walked over and deposited the cat, dropping her in Aramis’ lap none too gently. Once she was safely snuggled up in his good arm Aramis grinned and whispered, “My precious hero, you saved me! Serge is going to make you the most delicious meal as a reward.”

Treville rolled his eyes and motioned for Marsac to leave the room. There were a few more things he wanted to know about Aramis’ ordeal and if he allowed Marsac to stay the two would only end up fighting by the end. Marsac and Aramis were the best of friends, but both had tempers and were stubborn to a fault. It wasn’t a good thing to leave the two together for long periods of time.

When Marsac left, Treville turned back to Aramis and asked, “You said a group from the Court of Miracles attacked you?”

“With a net, I was so twisted and tangled in it I couldn’t move as they hit and kicked me... Did JJ really come all this way to the garrison?”

Treville ran his hand down his face and sighed, he didn’t understand what could have provoked an attack on his musketeers. It was usually the red guards that picked on the court inhabitants inciting their wrath, “Why did they attack you, did they say?”

Aramis was scratching JJ under her chin, the kitten purring so loud that Treville almost missed the whispered response. “They warned me to tell you to stop following their people… Porthos said he was the one you were following. Sir, why are you so interested in him?”

Treville frowned, he had never heard of anyone named Porthos. He decided that Aramis should, at least, know why he’d been so brutally attacked tonight.

“I lost a friend's child to the court when he was five. I promised to watch over him and I failed...”

It was silent in the healing room for a good long time, both Treville’s and Aramis’ breathing and JJ’s purring the only sounds.

“Well,” began Aramis. He lay back in his bed a little further, yawning as he spoke. “If Porthos is that little boy, he’s obviously survived and he looks well. Something tells me he is going to return my beloved pauldron someday… maybe not soon, but someday. You will have your chance then.”

Treville watched as Aramis yawned and shuddered at the fatigue running through his limbs.

“Thank you Aramis, and yes, JJ did help us find you. You should have seen her crying on your hat in the middle of the courtyard. She was a pitiful sight, soaked down to the skin and growling at anyone who came near her.”

Aramis closed his eyes and chuckled, “She’s feisty, my kitten.”

“She is going to get you into a world of trouble, kid." Treville smiled fondly at his soldier. Despite outward appearances, he hoped and prayed that the boy from the court would show up at his garrison one day.

"Aramis, why were you out of the garrison tonight?”

There was no response from the bed’s occupants but a snore and a faint purring.

  
  



	5. JJ Art - Made by @RitaMarx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JJ the cat art created by [RitaMarx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RitaMarx/pseuds/RitaMarx)

Rita made me JJ art!! I can't even begin to explain to you how happy I am with my JJ pictures :)

 

Rita you rock!!

 


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